


Morning In

by dragonimp



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-20
Updated: 2006-06-20
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:32:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: None - Warning
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonimp/pseuds/dragonimp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young alchemist crawled to the center of the double bed and then sat on his heels, waiting for some clue as to what to do next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning In

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "[Morning After](http://impishclawmarks.livejournal.com/666.html#cutid1)"

"There's something I gotta know," Edward said as he pulled his clothes from the dryer, handing the shirt and jacket to the Colonel to put on hangers. It was so domestic it was ridiculous. "You're always dating women."

  


"Astute observation, Fullmetal."

  


Ed glared and then continued. "So is that just a cover? Or are you over compensating?"

  


"Not at all." Mustang hung the clothes on a rack and then turned to smirk at the younger alchemist. "I quite like women. They're lovely creatures, and can be very . . . _pleasant_ to be with."

  


Edward glowered. "If you're going to tell me I look like a girl. . . ."

  


The older man chuckled and ran a hand around to the small of the young man's back, pulling him close. "Hardly. You're beautiful, but it's a masculine beauty."

  


The blond's frown turned skeptical. "I'm not . . . _mmm_. . . ." The rest of his words were swallowed when Mustang's mouth closed over his, and he decided to let the matter drop. It was probably just empty flattery, anyway. He went up on his toes to lean into the kiss, hooking his left arm around the other's neck. Mustang tasted like coffee and jam. When they broke apart, he asked, "So you go either way, huh? Why don't you ever date men?"

  


"Women are what's acceptable."

  


He snorted. "It's an image thing. I shoulda guessed."

  


Mustang chuckled and kissed him again, lightly. "It's a little more important than that makes it sound, but yes, it's an image thing. Shall we?" At Edward's nod, he pulled back and took the teen's hand, drawing him out of the laundry room—

  


—And into the kitchen.

  


"Eh?" Ed raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell you have some sort of kitchen kink you want to play out."

  


"Hmm, there's a thought. . . ." The older man smirked, then let go of his hand and opened a cabinet. "But no, that's not why we're here. It's been a while since I've had a male lover, so we're going to have to, well, _improvise."_

  


"Huh? What do you mean—oh."

  


Edward watched as the Colonel set a bottle of cooking oil on the counter and then pulled a small jar from a drawer, and for some reason he could feel his cheeks heating up. He leaned against the door jam and folded his arms, trying to will the fluttering in his stomach to go away. It was one thing when he was drunk and not thinking. Now that he was sober, he was thinking far too much, and it was making him jittery. He realized that all his "knowledge" about sex came from roadside gossip, and he knew better than to put much stock that. He wasn't even completely sure how this would work. "Colonel—look, I'll let you top this time, but don't assume it'll always be that way."

  


The older man put the lid on the jar and regarded him with smug amusement. "Why Fullmetal, does that mean you'll be coming back?"

  


Now his face felt _really_ hot. "That—I didn't—I mean—that's not—"

  


A gentle finger against his lips stopped him. Mustang was smirking down at him, but the expression seemed fond. Had that fondness always been there? How many times had he overlooked it, mistaking it for something else?

  


Mustang picked up the small jar of oil, and then held out his hand. Ed started to take it, but then stopped, staring down at the cold, mechanical hand, with its metal plates and screws and inhuman joints. Mustang's hand in comparison seemed soft and finely shaped, and all too fragile. But he was standing there, smiling and holding out his hand, waiting, so the teen hesitantly slipped his automail into it. The older man laced their fingers together and stroked his thumb along the back plate.

  


"We're not on duty right now, so you can just use 'Roy.'"

  


"Roy, huh," he repeated. The name felt odd in his mouth, but he decided he liked the taste. He quirked a smile. "All right. But only if you call me 'Ed.' Or at least 'Edward.' Think you can remember it?" The older man gave him a look of wounded dignity and Ed smirked up at him.

  


They headed for the bedroom. Ed was distracted by Mustang's thumb on his hand, which kept moving, back and forth, stroking the back plate and the metal knuckles. It wasn't often he felt such a light touch on his automail, so light that the pressure sensors couldn't pick it up and the tactile sensors didn't know quite how to interpret it. If he hadn't been able to see it, he wasn't sure he'd know it was there.

  


"By the way, I noticed you modified that robe."

  


"Huh? Oh—well, it's huge."

  


The older man chuckled. "I suppose I'll have to buy one that fits you. If there's going to be a reoccurrence of this, that is." He raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem to be waiting for an answer, so Ed didn't bother to give him one.

  


Once in the bedroom, Mustang—Roy, he was going to have a hard time getting used to calling him that—shut the door, then motioned toward the bed. The closed door shouldn't have made a difference—it wasn't as if there was anyone else in the house—but Edward found it calmed some of his jitters. Perhaps it was simply that this was the sort of thing that was supposed to be done behind closed doors.

  


The young alchemist crawled to the center of the double bed and then sat on his heels, waiting for some clue as to what to do next. The older man followed, and set the oil on the bedside table.

  


Roy turned to face him and smoothed one hand down his back, then the other, both of them coming to rest on his ass, near where it met his heels. Edward rose up on his knees, and those hands moved down to cup his cheeks. The hands felt warm through his robe. "Nervous?" Roy asked, dark eyes for once holding more warmth than arrogance.

  


Ed's cheeks heated up again and _fuck_ he really needed to do something about this blushing business. "Maybe a bit," he admitted, resting his hands on the other man's shoulders and fighting the urge to drop his eyes.

  


Mustang—Roy—nodded, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'd be concerned if you weren't." He pressed another kiss to his brow, then the bridge of his nose. Edward closed his eyes and tilted his face up, and the lips moved to his cheekbones and eyelids.

  


"Yeah but . . . after last night. . . ."

  


The older man laughed softly, blowing warm puffs of air across his face. "Last night you were drunk, and we didn't go that far."

  


Before he could respond Roy's mouth found his, peppering it with little kisses and sucking briefly on his lips, but never staying still long enough for him to respond. "Damn . . . it. . . ." He finally grabbed the back of the other man's neck and pressed their mouths together, firmly.

  


Maybe a little too firmly. He started to back off, but the older man followed him, and he suddenly found himself bent back a little too far. He made a startled noise and dropped his right hand to the bed, almost breaking the kiss, but then there was an arm around the small of his back, supporting him. He corrected his balance, and leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his lover's neck.

  


His lover. What an strange thought.

  


His brain, always over active, decided to mull over this "lover" thing, and from there segued into the mechanics of kissing, wondering how two people mashing their lips together and exchanging spit could be so appealing. It was a disgusting concept, if one actually thought about it. Not to mention messy.

  


His body decided his brain could go hang itself, especially when there was a tongue in his mouth and a hand stroking his side, from his shoulder, over his hip, down his thigh, and back again. Then the hand slipped under the robe and his brain fizzled out.

  


The teen groaned as the hand caressing his naked thigh came teasingly close to his groin, then slid down to massage the scarred skin above the automail port. "Ro-oyy . . . !" he said in frustration, not sure what he wanted to ask for. Get your hand on my dick? Well, yes, that thought had appeal, but that couldn't be all there was to it, and part of him wasn't sure he wanted him to stop what he was doing right now.

  


The bastard just chuckled and ran that damn hand up the back of his thigh to his ass, almost ticklishly light, and proceeded to trace patterns over his skin.

  


Ed growled and surged upwards, taking that bastard's mouth again and pressing against him, bucking his hips and thrusting in his tongue for a change, tracing it along the roof of bastard's mouth.

  


His brain decided to speak up again, telling him that the human mouth contained numerous different types of bacteria and it was really rather gross to be sticking his tongue in someone else's mouth, and his body once again told his brain to shove it. His brain reasoned that by now they'd probably exchanged enough bacteria to render the point moot and gave up.

  


Which was good, because his body was thoroughly distracted by the hand that was now firmly kneading his ass, and a certain portion of Mustang's anatomy that was rubbing against his stomach through layers of fabric.

  


Then the older man's lips closed around his tongue and Ed suddenly found his tongue being sucked on. He let out a startled noise, but made no move to pull back, letting the Colonel—Roy—have his way for a moment.

  


When they broke apart he gasped, panting a little, and his brain reminded him that he really should remember to breathe, and for once his body was in agreement.

  


Roy was smirking at him. "You catch on quickly. But then, I shouldn't be surprised." He leaned forward, lowering the younger alchemist to the bed. "How about I show you something?"

  


Edward shifted around to get his legs out from under him, but otherwise let himself be manhandled. After all, Roy was the one who knew what he was doing. And it wasn't so bad, letting someone else take control for a while. "Show me what?"

  


"Something I'm sure you'll enjoy."

  


The dark-haired man brushed his lips across his cheek, then nuzzled his ear. The blond turned his head to accommodate, even though his brain was shouting that that was his ear for God's sake and there was no good reason that it should feel so good. Then Roy started using his tongue, and his body told his brain to shut the fuck up already, because it really didn't care _why._

  


Then that wonderful mouth left his ear and traveled down his neck, to tongue the hollow between his collar bones, and Roy's hands slid down his chest and undid the tie of the robe. Edward had no idea what to do with his own hands. He felt stupid just leaving them on Roy's shoulders, but the thought of resting them on the bed sounded even more stupid.

  


He gasped and arched his hips up when the rough fabric of the robe slid across his already aroused cock. Then the sensation was suddenly gone, leaving him naked and exposed, and he dropped his hips with a frustrated cry.

  


"Patience," Mustang said, his voice low and husky.

  


The teen sucked in a shaky breath and held it for a moment, then looked up and tugged on the older man's robe. "Yours, too."

  


Smirking, Roy sat back and slowly pulled off the robe— _practically turning it into a strip tease, the cocky bastard_ —and Ed took the opportunity to pull his arms out of the sleeves of his. Then the other man was over him, straddling his hips, naked and partly aroused, and Ed was finding it hard to breathe.

  


"Easy." Roy stroked his chest, the touch gentle, the look in his dark eyes affectionate and fond.

  


How many people has he looked at that way? Was it just another mask, a ploy to get what he wanted?

  


Edward closed his eyes and swallowed, squashing those thoughts back to the dark corners of his mind, and managed to calm his breathing a little. The man above him shifted, then he felt warm breath caressing his face, a second before a pair of lips touched his. The kiss was soft and gentle, and he opened his mouth to it, breathing in deeply through his nose (his brain applauded him for remembering to inhale, and reminded him that he also needed to exhale before long).

  


The lips moved to his neck again, and he brought his left hand to his lover's hair, threading his fingers through the dark, short strands. The hair was thick, a bit coarse, and still damp from the shower. Ed ran his hand over it, enjoying the feel, both of it between his fingers and where it tickled his neck.

  


Roy moved down his neck, then pressed his lips to the edge of the automail port, and Ed flinched, his breath catching. The older man raised his head a bit, enough to meet the younger one's eyes. "Does that bother you?"

  


"N . . . no. . . ." He let his hand slide down to the back of the other man's neck. "Just . . . startled me."

  


Roy smiled, and his thumb caressed the teen's jaw for a moment, before he bent his head again. Even expecting it, Edward almost couldn't keep his breathing even. He'd never expected to be touched like that—not _there._ That place was . . . ugly.

  


Roy traveled down the edge of the port, pausing occasionally to trace a scar with his tongue, until he got to the nipple that had just barely missed being covered by metal.

  


Those lips closed over the sensitive nub and that tongue started prodding it, back and forth, and Ed's back arched. Then the bastard's fingers started playing with the other nipple, pinching it gently and rolling it between them, and the bastard _sucked,_ and Ed made a short sound that was not quite a keen and not quite a moan. His brain was reminding him that he _really_ needed to remember to breathe, but his body was too busy paying attention to the wonderful sensations coming from his chest, and his cock was telling him that it was starting to feel neglected and could it _please_ get a little of that?

  


The older man pulled up then, smirking, and Edward let his back fall to the bed. "Like that?"

  


"Ah-huh. . . ." He suddenly realized his hand had fisted in the other's hair, and he quickly loosened it, resting it instead on his shoulder.

  


Mustang smirked some more, but Ed decided that he was allowed to be a little smug after that. "It gets better." He bent then to run the tip of his tongue over the teen's belly, causing the muscles to jump and twitch.

  


"Are you— _ah_ —planning to—to bring me off like this?" he gasped out. It was awfully hard to talk with his diaphragm trying to spasm. "I thought we were—going to—to—"

  


Chuckling, Roy sat up, resting his hands on Ed's thighs and stroking with his thumbs. Edward's hand slid down his arm and came to rest on the bed. "Oh, we are, and for that I need you relaxed. What's your worry? You're fifteen; you'll be ready to go again in no time." The thumbs were stroking high on the insides of his thighs, and his legs wanted to part to allow better access, but his knees were trapped.

  


The older alchemist seemed to realized the problem because he shifted, moving his knees from either side of Ed's to between his calves, and Ed's legs gladly spread to give him room. His brain told him he probably looked like a slut, and his body proudly declared that it didn't give a shit.

  


The blond finished arranging his legs and propped himself up on his elbows. "Are you saying I can't rela- _ahhhfuuuck._ . . ."

  


One of those hands had moved from his thigh to cup his balls, and his brain shorted out. He fell back onto the mattress and fisted his hands in the robe beneath him.

  


"I need you _very_ relaxed." The dark-haired man then seemed to go thoughtful, smiling softly and rolling his lover's testicles around in his palm. "And I want to. It's been a while since I've been able to pleasure someone like this."

  


"Haaaahh. . . ." He might have said more, but his brain hadn't started up again.

  


"I can assume I won't be getting any more objections, then?"

  


"Fucking . . . arrogant . . . _bastard."_

  


"I thought not." Said bastard smirked and ran a finger up the length of the teen's erection, lingering a moment under the head, then gently fingering the slit, spreading around precum. Then he curled his fingers, putting _just the right amount_ of pressure around the head, and Edward cried out and bucked.

  


Roy let him thrust a few times, then slid his hand down to the base of his cock and made a tight circle with his fingers. The other hand moved to hold down his hips, and the blond growled in frustration.

  


"I can't have you coming too soon, that would spoil the fun."

  


"Just whose— _fun_ —would be spoiled?"

  


The bastard just _smirked._ Ed growled again and cursed him out.

  


Then he lowered himself—and put that wonderful mouth _over Ed's cock._

  


The blond cried out again, and wanted to thrust into that hot, wet cavern, but was held down by those damnable hands, so his back arched instead.

  


That mouth was moving on him, up and down, the tongue caressing the underside of his cock, and the hand was no longer constricting but stroking the lower part of his shaft. Ed's breath was coming in sobs and moans, and his world shrank to a hot mouth and a pair of hands (one was still keeping him from thrusting, dammit), and a pair of dark eyes that were locked with his. His brain commented that that couldn't taste very good, but it was thoroughly ignored.

  


Then the mouth pulled back, and the teen started to cry out in denial, but the hands were still on him, and a few firm strokes sent him over the edge.

  


Edward lay there, eyes closed, panting and swallowing, and slowly convincing his fingers to unclench. He felt the mattress shift as Roy lay down beside him, then a hand caressed his cheek, and came to rest on his chest, the fingers touching his neck. He opened his eyes and found the older man propped up on one elbow. The look he was getting seemed incredibly fond. A small part of him even wanted to say "loving," but the rest of him shied away from that term.

  


"No going to sleep, now," Roy said, sounding amused.

  


Ed gave him a smile that probably looked glazed. "Well, you did say you wanted me relaxed."

  


"Relaxed, yes, but I also need you awake."

  


The young man turned on his side and regarded his lover. The hand moved from his chest to his shoulder, rubbing softly. He wondered what one said in this sort of situation. Should he thank him? Tell him that was the most amazing experience he'd ever had? The smug bastard would probably just laugh at him. But he felt like an idiot just lying there.

  


Roy kissed his forehead, then sat up and reached for the bedside table, and Ed could hear him fiddling with the jar. It brought his jitters back, although at a tenth of what they'd been before. "Hey, um—Roy?" He took a deep breath, twisting the fabric of the robe between his fingers. "Does this . . . does it hurt? I've heard stories, but . . . I don't know what's true."

  


The older man didn't answer right away, finishing with the jar first and lying back down beside him. "Not if it's done properly," he said, resting his wrist on Ed's hip and stroking the fingers of his other hand along his hair. "It can, if the other person is careless or deliberately being cruel, but done properly, it's very, very enjoyable."

  


"All right. . . . So, um, how should I. . . ."

  


"How you are is fine. Just move a little closer."

  


Edward shifted until he could rest his head on the Roy's upper arm, and then he was directed to place his knee on the other man's hip.

  


"That's good. Now just stay relaxed."

  


Roy's fingers, now slick with oil, brushed down the cleft of his ass, until they found his anus. The fingers rubbed against the puckered opening, pressing gently, and Ed shivered.

  


Those dark eyes were studying his face, and it was almost too much, to be watched so intently while being touched, in a place he barely touched himself. The younger alchemist bowed his head, touching his forehead to his lover's chest, and closed his eyes. It felt good, he had to admit, the gentle rubbing that was starting to relax the muscles down there, but it was still so strange and part of him was having a hard time believing he was letting someone touch him like that.

  


Then one finger pressed inside and he reflexively tensed, his breath catching.

  


"Easy. . . ." The voice was soft, soothing. "I know it feels strange. The most important thing is for you to relax."

  


Edward swallowed and took a few deep breaths. The finger inside him, inserted to the first knuckle, began to move, pressing against the edge of his opening and massaging in small circles, encouraging the tight muscle to relax.

  


"That's it. . . ." Mustang had a wonderful voice, really. Just listening to it like this made Ed want to curl up and purr. "Just relax . . . once you let me in, I can show you what I mean by 'enjoyable.'"

  


Well, that sounded promising. The teen pulled his knee up a bit and did his best to stay relaxed. The finger pressed in farther, to the second knuckle, and he hissed, but managed to not tense up. His brain chose this moment to bring up issues of sanitation, but was smacked down before it got very far.

  


Ed opened his eyes and found himself staring at the other man's cock, swollen and dripping. "Um . . . is that . . . really going to fit . . . in _there?"_

  


Roy chuckled. "Of course. The human body is remarkably flexible. You'd be surprised at some of things I've heard of people using."

  


"Such as what?" he asked, wary.

  


"Such as an entire hand and part of an arm. I can't say I've ever tried it myself, however."

  


"An—entire— _what?"_ The _finger_ seemed like a tight fit.

  


The finger in question turned and hooked, and touched _something_ that sent sparks up his spine, and he cried out and arched his back, throwing his head back and meeting an amused pair of eyes.

  


"Like that?"

  


"What—what was—"

  


"—That?" The bastard was smirking at him, but he was probing that _spot_ again, and Ed's body decided that so long as he kept that up, the bastard could smirk all he wanted. "That's your prostate."

  


"Why—why would it—feel like that—"

  


"I have no idea. I'm not sure anyone does." He sounded amused, but there was something else as well, something that turned his voice husky.

  


He probed it again and Ed moaned. "Enjoyable" seemed like such an understatement.

  


The finger retreated a little, only to be joined by a second one. The two fingers scissored, stretching him and taking turns brushing against his prostate. Roy was watching him again, his eyes intense and heated, a crease on his brow as if he was holding himself in check with some effort. The fingers pulled back and a third joined them, and Edward panted a bit as they were eased inside. He saw the crease between those dark eyebrows deepen, and he realized that the older man _was_ holding himself in check, probably had been for a while, and the heated look he was getting was nothing less than _desire._

  


That realization did almost as much for his arousal as the fingers inside him. He growled, grabbing the back of his lover's head with his flesh hand and bringing their mouths together. There was a bitter taste on Roy's lips, and Ed realized it was his own precum. It wasn't the turn-off he thought it would be, not with the other man moaning into his mouth and thrusting fingers inside of him. The thrust was more abrupt than the other movements had been, and it burned a bit, but the sensation was far from unpleasant. Ed moaned and opened his mouth to accept Roy's tongue. He felt pinned, caught between two points of entrance, as both his mouth and his ass were explored and claimed. The feeling was both frightening and exhilarating.

  


"Edward . . ." the older man whispered when they broke the kiss. The sound of his name sent shivers down Ed's spine and settled in his groin. "My beautiful Edward . . . let me . . . ?

  


Edward nodded. The fingers pulled away, leaving him feeling strangely empty, and he found himself shifted onto his back, with Roy positioning himself between his legs.

  


As Roy reached for the oil, the teen found himself wondering, not for the first time, how he must look to the other man. His body was a third metal and covered in scars; he couldn't be very attractive. And yet he'd called him beautiful . . . twice.

  


_Empty flattery,_ the cynical part of his brain informed him. _It doesn't mean anything._ The thought saddened him, though he wasn't sure why.

  


He put those thoughts out of his mind, which was easy to do with Roy looking at him like he was the most delectable thing he'd ever seen. Sincere or not, that look was heady. The older man finished spreading the oil on his own erection, then leaned over his younger lover, placing one hand on the bed and slipping the other one under the small of his back, smearing oil on his skin. "Lift your knees."

  


The teen obeyed, tucking his legs against the other man's sides, and also grabbing onto his shoulders for good measure. The hand left his back, and he watched as Roy lined himself up. Then he felt the head of Roy's cock against his stretched anus. Prepared or not, this just felt . . . _large._

  


He couldn't quite bite back a cry as his opening was breached, and Roy stilled. "Keep . . . keep going," he gasped out. It had been shock more than pain, but he wasn't sure how to explain that right now. But the older man nodded, and pressed forward again, and Edward watched as he was slowly entered. Claimed. The sight was erotic.

  


His body didn't seem to know what to do about this strange intrusion. His anal muscles spasmed and his hands clenched, and he was having trouble breathing again. He at least had sense enough to let go of the other man's shoulders, resting his fists on his back instead.

  


Roy was leaning on his elbows now, his head bowed so that his hair brushed Ed's forehead. Edward might be new at this, but he was sure there was more to it. "What—are you waiting for?"

  


The smile Roy gave him seemed strained, and he seemed to almost be shaking with the effort of holding back. "You to relax."

  


"Oh. Right." The blond gave him an apologetic smile, as best he could manage, then closed his eyes and focused on relaxing.

  


He felt lips brush against the bridge of his nose, then the man above him—inside him—moved, pulling out and easing back in, and the young man gasped. The next thrust came out a little farther, and came in a little faster, but was still gentle. Then Roy shifted, just a little, and the next thrust brushed his sweet spot. The teen moaned and wrapped his legs around his lover's waist, trying to pull him as close as possible.

  


That wonderful, deep voice moaned. "Edward . . . Ed . . . look at me. . . ."

  


He opened his eyes to meet the gaze of the man above him. The man was sweaty, his hair was a mess, and his usual mask was nowhere to be seen. He was a far cry from the proper, untouchable Colonel Ed was used to—and he'd never looked sexier.

  


Which was only appropriate, since they were having sex.

  


He choked off a sudden giggle and Roy gave him an odd look. Ed shook his head. "Nothing—nothing. Just a stray thought."

  


The older man raised an eyebrow, then quirked a smile. "I bet you're just full of those . . . aren't you." He was starting to settle on a rhythm now, long, slow thrusts that made Ed want to both writhe with pleasure and growl in impatience.

  


"I thought I was—full of something else—at the moment." To illustrate his point the teen arched into the next thrust, pulling down with his legs.

  


Roy groaned. "So you are."

  


Ed pulled his lover down into a sloppy, bruising kiss, one with too little skill and too much teeth, and wrapped his arms around his neck, threading the fingers of his left hand into his hair.

  


"Roy . . ." the blond moaned after a moment, impatience finally edging out pleasure. "More, please . . . faster, harder, _something."_

  


The damn bastard shook his head. "Not . . . not your first time."

  


"Fucking— _shit._ I'm not—I'm not going to _break."_

  


The older man shook his head again, his nose rubbing against the younger one's cheek. "Edward, please. Later, when you're more experienced, more used to this. . . . For now . . . _shhh._ . . ." He kissed him lightly. "Edward . . . trust me . . . ?"

  


Edward gave him the best glare he could manage under the circumstances, but relented. Hearing his name said like that . . . fucking bastard had to know it was a weak point.

  


The bastard shifted, resting his weight on one arm and bringing his other hand, the oily one, down between them and curling it around Ed's erection. Ed moaned, and his body suggested that maybe this man didn't really deserve the title of "bastard," but that was one point his brain wasn't relenting on, no matter how good he was at this.

  


He was stroking him in time with his thrusts, and Edward lost himself in simply _feeling._ Despite what he'd said, Roy's thrusts were starting to come faster, and the teen moaned his encouragement.

  


All too soon, and yet not soon enough, Ed climaxed, adding to the semen already splattered across his stomach and chest. After a few more thrusts, Roy followed, arching his back and moaning deep in his throat, and then collapsing bonelessly, his face pressed against his young lover's hair.

  


They lay there for a long moment, panting. Edward was starting to feel uncomfortable, more from his awkward, half-curled position than anything else, but couldn't muster up the energy just yet to ask the other man to move. Before the teen was motivated enough to say anything the older man shifted, pulling back far enough to pull himself free. As soon as Ed straightened out Roy collapsed again, lying half on top of the blond and resting his cheek on the automail port.

  


Edward rested his hand on Roy's side, careful not to move his shoulder so as not to catch his lover's hair in the metal plates. "We're a mess again."

  


"Mmm. That tends to happen."

  


". . . Roy?"

  


"Mm?"

  


"Did you . . . mean that? What you said earlier?"

  


"You're going to have to be more specific, Fullmet—Edward."

  


"Earlier, when you. . . ." Ed fought to keep his voice from falling into a mumble. "When you called me beautiful."

  


"Hm? Why would you think I didn't?"

  


The teen tuned his face to the side, his mouth pulling back in a sardonic frown. "I've seen you flirt. You've probably turned flattery into an art form."

  


The dark-haired man shifted, tilting his face back to glance at his lover. "Perhaps so, but I never say anything I don't mean. That way it doesn't trip me up later."

  


Ed snorted. "So tell me, Colonel, just how many people have shared this bed with you?"

  


Roy propped himself up on his elbow, regarding the teen with an unreadable expression. "This particular bed? You're the first."

  


"Bullshit. You've lived here for three years."

  


"Contrary to rumor, I don't have sex with every woman I date, and I never bring them home with me. As for sleeping—literally sleeping—with someone, you're the first person I've shared a bed with in a long time. It's an issue of trust."

  


Despite himself, Ed quirked an eyebrow. "What, you mean you're not afraid I'm going to kill you in your sleep?"

  


Mustang smirked. "No, I figure you're more likely to wait until I'm awake."

  


The younger alchemist snorted. "Damn right. It'd be much more fun that way."

  


The older man sobered, regarding him for a moment. "Edward . . . I'm not taking this lightly. I had thought you knew that."

  


Ed glanced off to the side again, and could feel heat in his cheeks. "Yeah . . . yeah, I guess I did."

  


Roy nodded, giving him a small smile. "Good. And I did mean it, by the way. That you're beautiful."

  


_But I'm not,_ he wanted to say. _I'm not beautiful at all. I'm scarred and incomplete and ugly._

  


Instead he prodded the older man's shoulder to get him to move. As Roy shifted off of him, his expression seemed to freeze; Ed realized he must think he was leaving. The teen snorted and scooted down on the bed, then turned on his side and threw an arm over his lover's waist.

  


The older man let out a breath that was not quite a sigh and wrapped his arms around the blond, pulling him close until their chests were pressed together. Ed shifted around to get comfortable (he _wasn't_ snuggling, and if that bastard claimed he was, he was going to be in a lot of pain, great sex or no). His automail was trapped between them on the bed, but Roy didn't seem to mind it. Edward took stock; he felt a bit sore, but it was almost pleasant in a strange sort of way, and mostly he just felt really, really good, and more relaxed than he'd felt in a long time.

  


The older man chuckled, running his fingers up and down the younger one's spine and drawing idle patterns against his skin. "And to think you used to flinch if I so much as patted your shoulder." He sounded amused, but also almost . . . relieved.

  


"So?" He couldn't see what that had to do with anything, and was too lethargic to bother figuring it out.

  


"So you gave me the impression that you didn't like to be touched."

  


Edward rolled his eyes, even though the bastard couldn't see it. "I don't like to be touched by _strangers."_

  


"Ah. I see."

  


The teen snorted and shifted again ( _not_ snuggling), and adjusted his arm across the other man's back. "Hey—you'd better remember about that robe."

 

Omake:

  


Ed: Hey Al, sorry I'm so late.

  


Al: That's okay. So was he good?

  


Ed: Wha . . . What?

  


Al: You stayed awfully late, so he must have been good.

  


Ed: Al!

  


Al: How does that work anyway?

  


Ed: _What?_

  


Al: Does it really go _there?_ Because that sounds uncomfortable.

  


Ed: _Al!_ . . . Al, I love you, but there are some things brothers just shouldn't share.

  


Al: Aww~!


End file.
